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Book : My Mothers Secret A Novel Based On A True Holocaust..

Modelo 25274810
Fabricante o sello Berkley
Peso 0.17 Kg.
Precio:   $53,149.00
Si compra hoy, este producto se despachara y/o entregara entre el 26-05-2025 y el 03-06-2025
Descripción
-Titulo Original : My Mothers Secret A Novel Based On A True Holocaust Story

-Fabricante :

Berkley

-Descripcion Original:

Inspired by a true story, My Mother’s Secret is a captivating and ultimately uplifting tale intertwining the lives of two Jewish families in hiding from the Nazis, a fleeing German soldier, and the mother and daughter who save them all. Franciszka and her daughter, Helena, are simple, ordinary people...until 1939, when the Nazis invade their homeland. Providing shelter to Jews in Nazi-occupied Poland is a death sentence, but Franciszka and Helena do exactly that. In their tiny home in Sokal, they hide a Jewish family in a loft above their pigsty, a Jewish doctor with his wife and son in a makeshift cellar under the kitchen, and a defecting German soldier in the attic-each party completely unknown to the others. For everyone to survive, Franciszka will have to outsmart her neighbors and the German commander. Told simply and succinctly from four different perspectives-all under one roof- My Mother’s Secret is a testament to the kindness, courage, and generosity of ordinary people who chose to be extraordinary. Review “A moving and captivating portrait.”-Amir R. Gissin, Consulate General of Israel “A reflection of our own era, a reminder of how far wrong we can be led...an important book.”-Joseph Kertes, author of Gratitude, winner of the Canadian Jewish Book Award “The woman at the heart of this novel will haunt you after you read about her fearless compassion, her defiance of the odds of survival.”-Anna Porter, award-winning author of Kasztner’s Train About the Author J.L. Witterick is the international bestselling author of My Mothers Secret. This novel was written because she was so inspired by the true story of Franciszka Halamajowa. Courage, kindness, and sacrifice should never be forgotten. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Part I HELENA Chapter 1 When you’re a child, you think that your parents are the same as everyone else’s and that what happens in your house happens in other people’s homes too. You have no way of knowing any differently. And so, I think that everyone is afraid of their father. I think that men marry to have someone cook and clean for them. I don’t know that some men actually love their wives and their children. My brother, Damian, and I grow up with two very different people. My father is precise, hard, and linear, while my mother is imaginative, loving, and warm. Both are strong. My father is Ukrainian and my mother is Polish, but we moved to Germany, where the opportunities are better than in Poland. My father is a machinist, and that suits him well because it requires precision and measurement-both skills he possesses in abundance. My mother works as a cook for a wealthy German family, and we love that she often brings leftovers home for us. She brings food that we never would have tasted otherwise. Not much usually, but there are sometimes small pieces of expensive meats like pork chops and, if we’re lucky, fruits and nuts, which are luxuries for most people. When there are leftovers, my mother puts them all on a plate for us to share. Even though we would have already eaten the dinner cooked ahead for us in the morning, it’s a special treat that we all look forward to. Typically, my father gorges himself, reaching for more even while he’s still chewing with his mouth partly open. Once as I am about to pick up a slice of apple from the plate, my father slaps my hand. It is something that he wants. My mother sees this and shakes her head. The next week she keeps a whole apple in her pocket and only brings it out after my father starts the loud, snorting sound that is his snore when asleep. She cuts the apple in half and gives it to my brother and me. I don’t know why, but I remember what happens next more than I remember how my father treats me. I can hear the words from my brother as if he has just said them: “Lena,” he says, using his nickname for me, “you know I ate so much for dinner that I really
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